


Something Lovely, Something Strange

by SnakeFeathers



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Gen, Merman!Bucky, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Vampire!Bucky, each chapter is gonna be a different thing so tags will get chaotic, fae!Nat, sailor!steve, werewolf!Bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-25
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-02-14 16:53:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2199561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnakeFeathers/pseuds/SnakeFeathers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of short drabbles and ficlets of various AUs and happenstance based on the MCU. Feel free to submit your own AU/fic ideas to <a href="http://snakefeathers.tumblr.com/ask">my tumblr blog</a>! Characters, genres, pairings, AU types and whatnot will vary and will be marked as such!</p><p>1- merman!Bucky and Sailor!Steve<br/>2- Steve frees Fenrir<br/>3- Pre-war Steve and Bucky<br/>4- Bucky is with Steve when he crashes the plane<br/>5- Vampire!Bucky and human!Steve<br/>6- Loki's control lasting on Clint<br/>7- Werewolf!Bucky<br/>8- human!Steve, vampire!Bucky and fae!Natasha<br/>9- Steve finding Bucky in cryo</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Skinny Sailor and the Strange Fish (Merman!Bucky, Sailor!Steve)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt for this drabble was **Steve is a sailor and Bucky is a merman trying to lure him to his death**. I just couldn't resist this one. Slight warning for attempted drowning and allusions to such!

__

__

_Of course_ , he thought grumpily, watching the human on the docks through bright membrane-shielded eyes, _of course the one time I manage to catch a human’s eye and he’s a damn runt._

Natalia was going to lose scales laughing about this one. He could hear her teasing already and he hadn’t even gotten the kid in the water yet. The first time he manages to snare a human and the quarry’s small enough Bucky’s fairly certain he could lift him up with one hand; the rest of the pod was never going to let him hear the end of it. He was barely enough of a mouthful to go through the effort of drowning, but he’d gotten this far so he might as well do it.

The human stood at the end of the dock, dressed in one of those strange outfits the boat-humans wore that was way too big for his tiny frame, watching him with eyes that were bluer than the ocean could ever dream of being. He was all ungainly bony limbs and unruly dirty blond hair and dirt-smudged pale skin that looked as thin as fish fin; Bucky was pretty sure he’d caught minnows fuller fleshed than this runt. But the fact remained that he was a human, and catching humans was a very highly valued skill.

With the sun having long vanished behind the horizon and the moon low in the sky it was simple enough to guide the human where he wanted him, enticing him off of the dock and into the shallows, luring him slowly out towards deeper water with sweeping movements and velvety croons. With his barbed fins laid flush against his body he was able to appear more human, looking less like the dangerous predator his kind was to heighten the illusion; the low light hid the scales that ran the length of his arms and down his chest, shadowed his sharp teeth and made the silhouette of his long, sinuous body melt away into the choppy water.

Humans were so easy to fool and trick into entering the water. They were curious by nature, entranced by things they knew nothing about; a simple flash of glittering fins or jeweled scales in the shallows got their attention and lured them close, then soft sounds and beckoning eyes drew them deep into the water and into an inescapable, poisoned embrace. Nat was a natural at luring, while Bucky was inexperienced with the whole act other than the drowning part. _That_ he could do. He’d helped Nat with it countless times when she managed to catch two humans at once. But where she was stealthy, calculated and deathly efficient, he was clumsy and awkward, lacking the predatory grace that this required.

Bucky was getting nervous. Everything was going rather alright, with the human now in chest-deep water, but not quite putty in his hands like he was supposed to be by this point. If he slipped up now he could lose him. He could wise up to the trap and start thrashing or screaming which would draw attention. That was definitely something he wanted to avoid, since attention brought weapons and fishermen.

He made a soft croon in the back of his throat, a keening noise that was distinctly inhuman but entrancing anyway. It was hard swimming backwards and keeping his black and blue and silver scaled tail from accidentally brushing against the human, which would break the illusion easily, but he wasn’t well practiced in it and his head kept slipping under the water. He’d jerk back to the surface, sputtering and hissing under his breath, but he could feel himself losing his focus and that was a dangerous thing.

 _Shit_ , Bucky’s thoughts fell into a jumble as he felt the human’s hand brush against one of his fins, _SHIT_ , the human blinked suddenly, eyes losing the unfocused look he’d been sporting since he first slipped into the water. Bucky felt his heart flutter, fins and frills flaring out in a fear response, shattering what little illusion of humanity he still had going for him. No amount of clever tricks could hide his reflective eyes or sharp teeth that ached to bite, so he sank down until the water reached just below his eyes, hissing a stream of bubbles through the gills at his neck in defeat.

The fins that framed his face drooped dejectedly, but even with that and his ears mostly underwater he heard the human _laugh_ at him. A bright and bubbly sound he’d only heard in passing from above the waves, never directed at him by a human. If he could blush he was sure his cheeks would have been bright red, but being cold blooded had its drawbacks. Instead his fins bristled at the embarrassment, the poisoned spines bared, and without further ceremony (and to prevent the human from yelling or doing anything to further his shame) wrapped his tail around one of his ankles and swiftly pulled him under the water. _  
_

Bucky would be lying if he said that the human’s startled face as he was pulled under wasn’t a little bit satisfying. It was easy to sink down to the sand, hooking his claws into the fabric humans seemed to be so fond of wearing, tail still wrapped around one of his legs to keep him from kicking so easily. Now it was just a waiting game, one that he knew very well.

The human felt far too fragile under his claws, all thin bones and taunt skin and heart that beat too fast and stumbled over itself. Air leaked from his mouth, panicked noises caught in his throat that twisted at Bucky’s insides for reasons he couldn’t place. He’d drowned countless people before, granted none around his own age, and never had this sort of reaction but for some reason this human runt with his bright blue eyes, golden hair and bubbly laugh was getting to him.

Even with time ticking away the human fought, thin fingers digging into his arms and his free leg kicking at his scaled ribs. He even bit and tore one of his fins, squirming and stubborn as a shark in his refusal to drown. It was admirable in a way, and before he could even fully contemplate what he was doing Bucky had unwound his tail from him, gently nudging him up to the surface.

As soon as he broke the surface the human gasped, breath wheezy and rough but grateful nonetheless. He splashed frantically and tried to speak but his words were garbled and rushed and incomprehensible; on a good day Bucky could understand most basic human words, but speaking was beyond him. This human’s speech was accented and jumbled but he was able to make out “fish” and “thanks” and “Steve”. What the heck did that mean? Did he want a fish? Was Steve a name? Did Steve want a fish? No way was he giving him a fish he was supposed to be dinner!

Bucky made a low clicking noise in his throat, flattening and smoothing his fins down so not to accidentally jab the human with a poisoned spine. He shoved lightly at the human- _Steve?_ -with his webbed hands, nudging and pushing him back towards shallow water. If he couldn’t bring himself to eat him then at least he’d make sure none of the others of his pod got to steal him. He’d get this human, eventually, but for now he needed to figure out how to drown him without those big blue eyes of his making him feel guilty.


	2. Wolf at the Door (Steve and Fenrir)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This prompt was **Imagine Steve freeing Fenrir from his chains and becoming friends with him**. I couldn't help myself.

Now, Steve had seen a lot of things that others would call ridiculous. He'd seen a man peel his face off to reveal a bright red skull, he'd seen his best friend die and then come back minus one arm with seventy years of trauma, he'd seen aliens and Gods and even woke up from his own death in the ice, but _this_? This was a bit much even for him. Being called to aid Thor on Asgard with the rest of the Avengers was just asking for something strange to happen, _especially_ with Loki involved, but he couldn't have thought up something like this.

Thor had told him plenty about Asgardian lore and history and Steve had absorbed it as eagerly as all the history he'd missed to his years in the ice, but he seemed to have left out a bit about the giant wolf. It was bound at the limbs and throat by chains that could have held a battleship to shore, all bristly black fur and piercing yellow eyes. Normally he would have left it, since it likely was there for a reason and he wasn't one to tread on what could be some sort of Asgardian law, but the new army Loki had raised had bombed the whole palace to hell and back and he wasn't about to leave it behind to the flames. The sad expression it pointed in his direction, even with the bright, gleaming fangs, was pretty hard to just ignore.

Steve wasn't about to just run up to it and break the chains, knowing that'd likely get him mauled the moment it got loose, so instead he approached it calmly with his palms raised, shield strapped safely to his arm. The wolf tensed up, claws digging into the floor where it was sprawled under the weight of its bonds, eyes tracking his every movement. Its ears were pricked up and fur on end, lip curled just enough to bare its teeth in promise.

"Just, uh, just calm down. I'm trying to help." He doubted the wolf would listen or understand but who knew with Asgardian animals. He was surprised when the wolf's ears swiveled towards him in clear interest, the low growl dying in its throat. That was… encouraging. He took it as permission and drew his shield, bringing the edge down on the chain that bound one of its front legs.

The chain shattered under the impact, the vibranium cutting through it but just barely. Whatever the chains were made of was tough, that was obvious. The wolf remained still and silent as he broke the remaining chains, leaving only the one at its neck. That one was thicker, shimmering with that strange glittering veil that a lot of Asgardian things seemed to have. He didn't think he could break it. The chain linked to a thick collar partly obscured under the wolf's fur, and he figured that was his best bet.

"I need to get the last one off," Steve started, taking a few cautious steps towards the wolf's head, "but I need to touch your neck. I'm not gonna hurt you, but I need you to just sit still and I'll get it off." smoke was starting to leak in from the door and it seemed to cement in the wolf's mind that the situation was dire. It let out a sharp snort before lifting its head a bit, eyes still watching him warily but letting him approach.

The collar buzzed under his fingertips even through his gloves, almost like static electricity but not. The wolf's fur was long and obscured his view so he had to blindly feel for where the chain connected to it, taking several tense moments. He found what he was looking for though, a thinner link in the chain that fit into a latch, which was just thin enough for him to get his hands on and pull with all his strength. The wolf caught on and pulled in the opposite direction, the thin link failing with a muffled _pop_.

"See? That wasn't—" his words faded into a muffled _mmph!_ when one of the wolf's giant paws smacked into his chest, knocking him over and pinning him to the floor in one swift movement. The action knocked the air out of his lungs, the wolf's claws pressed into the thick Kevlar of his uniform, its jaws hovering over his face a half-second later as it stared him down with those burning eyes.

Steve had already raised his arm to crash the shield into its face when it suddenly opened its mouth, but instead of biting it licked a stripe up his whole face, body shaking from the force of its wagging tail. Steve just blinked, taking several long seconds to get his heart, which threatened to hammer right out of his chest, back under control.

"Uh… you're welcome?"


	3. In Out of the Cold (Steve and Bucky)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not so much an AU but shameless fluff never hurt anyone. The prompt was **Imagine pre-serum Steve Rogers selflessly going out and running errands for all his neighbors... in the middle of a blizzard**. I have a disgusting weakness for pre-war Brooklyn boys fluff. This started cute and harmless and suddenly it wasn't.

"Steve."

"I know what you're gonna say Buck, but listen; Ms. Anders needed milk for the baby, you know how bad his colic is—"

" _Steve._ "

"And Miguel needed juice for his boy and the triplet's ma was sick and needed some medicine so I figured I might as well just—"

"Steven Grant Rogers, its negative seven outside and there's three feet of snow what the hell were you thinking? Wait, I know, you _weren't._ "

Steve puffed out his chest a bit, trying to look as big and strong as he could considering he was soaking wet and shivering and just about blue in the face from cold. Bucky had a point—okay Bucky had a lot of points, but he wasn't just going to sit there in his apartment when his neighbors needed help. Granted, he'd hoped to beat Bucky back home so he wouldn't know but it looked like the stars were not in alignment for him today.

"M'fine Buck, don't worry." He tried to sound as convincing as possible, but of course his lungs would pick that time to sneeze, the kind that made his ribs hurt. Bucky looked at him critically, head canting to the side the slightest bit and jaw set.

"Alright, out." Bucky motioned to his sopping jacket, stepping out of the doorway only after he'd peeled it off. "You're not getting everything wet. Go sit on the couch; I'll be back ina sec." Steve did as he said, knowing that even though Bucky sounded mad he was just disappointed. Bucky had vanished into the other room and Steve quickly curled up on the couch, knees pulled up to his chest to keep as much body heat as he could. Okay, yeah, that had been a pretty stupid thing to do but he got everything he needed so it was worth it.

Bucky returned about ten minutes later holding a thick quilt, the one that Sarah had made a few years back. He sat down heavy next to Steve, wrapping him up in it like a cocoon. It was toasty warm, Buck having likely thrown it over the radiator, and Steve damn near melted into it. A second later Bucky had hooked his arm around him and pulled him against him, wrapping them both up in the biggest blanket they had so none of their body heat could escape.

"Fine, huh." He said flatly although he broke into a smirk a moment later, "What am I going to do with you, Stevie. I leave for five minutes and you get the brilliant idea to walk half a mile in this weather? I swear one of these days you're gonna end up frozen solid from some fool's errand." His voice was teasing and Steve responded by huffing, plopping dejectedly against his chest with his bony shoulders and elbows right in Bucky's ribs, sighing in mock hurt. He was still ice cold, Bucky having jumped when he squashed himself up against him, but the warmth from both Bucky and the blanket was quick to ease the sting out of his skin.

"Yeah yeah very funny Buck," he rolled his eyes, moving a bit so instead of leaning right against his chest he was tucked up under Bucky's arm which was a bit more comfortable for the both of them, "but you'd be right there with me since you've always gotta pull me out of the shit I get myself into." Bucky huffed up a laugh at that, elbowing him slightly in the ribs.

"Damn straight. End of the line, right? Even if that line ends in some stupid snowbank because you're a damn fool punk with stupid ideas." He replied with a lazy smirk, "But that was stupid as hell, Stevie. If you get pneumonia again I'm going to lock you in the apartment 'til spring so you can't go catch your damn death running around in the snow."


	4. The Smell of the Ocean (Bucky, Steve)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This prompt was **Imagine Bucky didn't fall out of the train and ended up with Steve when they crashed the plane and the two of them ended up being thawed out within a few days of each other** and I am an evil, evil person. Enjoy~ uwu

He knew the impact would be violent, but he hadn't expected it to be _that_ violent. Steve had grabbed him and braced with the shield but it hadn't been enough. Everything had blurred together in a twisted mess of shrieking metal and shattering glass, the feeling of pressure and weight as if the sky itself was falling onto him, before everything went black.

Bucky wasn't sure how long he was out, woken by the cold burn of water dripping onto his leg. He tasted blood on his mouth and felt the warmth of it dripping down his face but he paid it no mind, forcing his eyes open to try and see in the nearly-black cockpit.

"Steve?" he croaked out, coughing up a mouthful of thick blood. That wasn't good. None of this was good. When he got no answer he tried to push himself up, momentarily forgetting his mangled left arm. He choked down a yelp and gritted his teeth, the acidic burn of the blue bolt Schmidt had hit him with now bright in the forefront of his awareness. The round had only grazed him but it'd been enough for it to tear through his sleeve and into his flesh, and now the sinister glow of it was advancing up his arm like a demented infection, eating away at him slowly. He knew that he only had a few hours, a day tops, before it got into his chest and he'd die.

"Steve?" he tried again but there was still no answer, his heart thudding loudly behind his ribs in fear. His eyes adjusted to the dim light and he saw a dark shape a few yards away, partially hidden beneath a scratched shield. He completely ignored the pain when he shoved himself to his feet, needing to know if Steve was alright.

"Hey— hey, Steve, Stevie, wake up—" the cold was starting to creep into his voice, teeth chattering and whole body starting to shiver violently. He wasn't going to make it more than a few hours in this cold but maybe Steve stood a better chance. He felt for a pulse and was horrified when he felt the warm tack of blood, but the heartbeat that thumped slow but steady under his fingers was assurance enough. He slid to his knees next to him, pushing the shield out of the way to wrap his arms around his friend's torso.

It was stupid, he knew it, and he could just hear Morita's blood pressure spiking at the mere thought of it but Bucky gathered Steve up in his arms anyway, getting as much of him up off of the cold metal floor as he could. Steve groaned in pain but he didn't open his eyes, face caked in half-dried blood and hair matted with it; Bucky was more terrified about that than the alien energy slowly consuming his arm.

He knew he was likely not much warmer than the surrounding air but any little bit could be enough to get Steve through the next few hours while they waited for rescue. He curled himself around as much of him as he could, some delirious part of him wishing Steve was small again, he was so much easier to fold himself around when he'd been small.

God, he was already so cold. Steve was cold too; everything was cold, colder than the coldest winter he and Steve had lived through. That was the year the radiator had gone out and they had to curl up together for warmth under every blanket they owned. He could only hold out hope that Peggy and the Commandos could find them before Steve froze to death.

Bucky tightened his grip on Steve and pulled him closer, keeping his left arm as far away as he could, not wanting the death creeping through it to cross to Steve. He was shivering so badly and couldn't feel much of anything, only aware of the faint warmth of blood and the meager body heat that leaked through Steve's uniform. He almost barked out a morbid laugh at the whole situation; he'd always feared Steve would die young, wouldn't make it through the winter, and now here they both were freezing to death in the belly of some wrecked plane. It seemed even the promise of the serum curing his ills wasn't enough to get Steve out of that fate.

His eyes started to slip closed and he shuddered out a heaving breath, the cold sunken clean through to his bones. The air was thick with the smell of sea salt, and he tried to focus on it and the soft rise and fall of Steve's chest against him, tried to imagine they weren't both dying in this God forsaken plane and were sleeping back in their apartment, that one cracked window letting in the spray-laden air from the ocean. The dark was closing in on his awareness and he knew he was going to die, he could only hope Steve held on long enough to be saved. That was the only important thing. He was dead anyway, with the blue energy lacing its way up his arm and towards his heart, there would be no saving him.

Without willing it his eyes slid shut and he couldn't open them back up, felt his heartbeat slow down and he knew it, knew this was it. He mumbled a choked _sorry_ into Steve's hair, trying to focus on anything but how cold and lifeless Steve felt before the darkness overtook him.

* * *

The first thing he realized was that he was warm. He felt sunlight across his cheek and softness underneath him and he let out a wheezing exhale. His left arm still felt cold, pins and needles of ice up and down the length of it. He couldn't seem to move it and that was dimly alarming but that wasn't what was at the forefront of his awareness. Something was breathing against his right arm, a delicate puff of warmth every few seconds. It was enough to bring him to open his eyes.

Bucky groaned at the brightness, everything warm cream colors and flashing sunlight, but he turned his head despite the horrible stiffness of his muscles to try and get a better look. Bright, gold blond hair sticking up every which way told him immediately that it was Steve, a huge weight dissolving off of him in an instant. He was alive. The Commandos must have found them.

Steve was leaning onto his cot, one arm folded under his head in a makeshift pillow as he slept. Bucky found himself smiling just a bit as he lifted his right arm, smoothing down the more unruly tufts of Steve's hair and nearly laughing at the way he leaned into it like a cat. He hurt all over but Steve had made it, somehow they'd _both_ made it, and that was good enough for him.

Those first few seconds of awakening were unclouded with the reality that his arm was missing, or that the radio was playing a game that had happened long ago in the past, or that the machine monitoring his heart beat was foreign and strange. Nothing else mattered at the moment, just that they had both lived through that hell, somehow.


	5. Blood in the Air (Vampire!Bucky, Steve)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As part of our Halloween/October prompt bash, I wrote a small drabble for the prompt **Imagine Bucky as a vampire, and Steve is his next meal**. I couldn't help but go a bit darker compared to my usual self in Dark Sunrise.

The scent of blood hadn’t been hard to track at all, painting a trail through the air that guided him to a dank back alley which minutes earlier had resonated with the sounds of a fight. Bucky had half expected there to be a group of injured there judging by how thick the blood-smell was, but no, there was just one willowy boy with straw-blond hair and blood spattered freckled skin. One of his bright blue eyes was swollen closed and crimson dripped from his split lip, his clothes dirtied and torn and disheveled from his crumbled position at the base of the wall he was pressed against.

He kept himself hidden as best he could in the shadows the setting sun cast but it was hard when his legs wanted to move of his own accord, guide him over to the injured human. It’d be easy enough to overpower him as injured and frail as he was but he wanted to wait. He was considered somewhat of a gentle feeder among the rest of his coven but, then again, that was incredibly relative; he was less liable to tear his prey to shreds and eat them like, say, Natalia when her victims tried to get handsy with her.

"Must’a been one hell of a fight," Bucky chanced speaking, striding out of his little shadowy corner to stand a few feet away from the human, "looks like you got the worst’a it, though." He half expected the other to ignore him and was more than a little surprised when he jumped up and shot him a withering glare, his thin ribs still heaving as he tried to catch his breath but jaw set determinedly. If he wasn’t so hungry Bucky would have found it admirable.

"What’sit to you?" the human’s voice had a bite to it that belonged to someone twice his size and Bucky found himself smirking as he wiped the blood that dripped from his nose on his sleeve, glaring at him over the dirty fabric. This one was likely going to fight and, while he typically didn’t go for meals that could defend themselves, he just couldn’t pass up this opportunity. Sure he was a bit scrawny and most of his blood was now all over the pavers but since he wasn’t terribly hungry it’d work out perfectly.

"Ah, no reason," Bucky shrugged as nonchalantly as he could, padding over to him silently and lightly, "except for, well…" he moved as quick as he could to pounce on him and yet still the human managed to swing at him, hitting him square on the jaw hard enough that his vision went white for a half-second. _Scrawny, stubborn little punk_. He fisted his hands into his prey’s shirt and hoisted him up, pinning him roughly to the wall at his back and leaning in to bare his fangs. He’d be lying if he said that seeing the color drain out of his face wasn’t a little bit satisfying.

"Y-you’re—"

"Losing my patience, yeah, so stay still and if you hit me again its not gonna be pretty." Bucky cut him off, trying to ignore just how loud his stomach was growling now that he was so close to his blood-flecked neck. His fangs ached and his throat burned, all thoughts of playing with his food shoved to the side in favor of making this quick.

He’d honestly expected the human to scream when he bit into his throat and he was dimly relieved when he didn’t. His blood tasted sweet, still tinged with adrenaline and extra oxygen from the fight, and Bucky thought that he’d made an excellent choice in following that scent trail into this back alley. That only lasted about three seconds, however, as after his first long swallow of blood he felt a bony knee slam into his ribs, knocking the air out of his lungs, completely blindsiding him.

Bucky sputtered and dropped the human, who bolted off a lot faster than he thought he possibly could in his state, disappearing down a corner. That was stupid, letting his guard drop like that, but he wasn’t about to just let him slip away now. He could hear the human rummaging for some sort of weapon out of sight and he just smirked to himself a bit, licking the spilled blood off his lips. He was just too stupid to run from a fight and he was more than willing to let him play right into his hands.


	6. Blue (Natasha, Clint)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My application piece that landed me my mod position. The prompt was **Imagine a hit to the head does not free people from Loki’s control, so when Natasha captures Clint and straps him down to a bed, he is still brainwashed when he wakes up.** Not shippy, promise.

_“’Tasha?”_

That statement had given her the faintest spark of hope, but reality had snuffed it out painfully quickly. Clint had woken up suddenly and violently, fighting with his bonds like a trapped animal. It wasn’t like anything Natasha had seen from him before. His eyes were that bright, feral blue that looked so horribly out of place on his features. Magic and monsters and Gods were beyond her repertoire, and Clint’s as well, the helplessness rubbed like salt into the wound of watching her longest partner in crime suffer.

“Clint, you—“

The archer hissed something out in Russian, voice too gravely for her to catch, but just the fact that he was speaking Russian told her it was likely some thinly-veiled personal quip. Loki knew how to take people apart, to turn them against each other, but she wasn’t going to let him do that between them. Her expression remained impassive, jaw set and shoulders tense from her seat a few feet away. Her eyes met ones of icy fire, cold and empty and _alien_.

“You can’t keep me here.”

“Watch.”

Natasha got to her feet, not letting the pain from her ankle show on her face as she left the room, door sliding shut and lock clicking behind her. The loud string of curses from the thrashing archer were muffled by the glass, but they still stung. Clint was one of her few friends, a brother in arms and partner in crime, but now moved by the God’s puppet strings he wasn’t the man she knew so well. It wasn’t anything she’d dealt with in recent history, except for her mentor in the Red Room with his bright blue eyes and soft Brooklyn-accented voice.

“Agent Romanoff, is everything okay?” her gaze snapped up, cutting over to where Captain Rogers was leaning out of his own room in the medical bay. He was recovering after his prolonged exposure to the thin atmosphere, face pale and breathing too quick for her liking. Super soldier or no, any extended period of time out in those conditions could be dangerous, but he looked to be relatively stable.

“… yeah, everything’s just fine, Captain.” Her tone was flat and forced, and she knew she didn’t sound convincing at all. Rogers’ brow creased and his mouth set into a line, eyes studying her for a moment.

“Agent Barton is still under Loki’s influence, isn’t he?” his tone was quiet and unaccusing, something she still found herself getting used to. He was far too trusting a man; he’d never last in a place like this, surrounded by liars and killers.

“Yes, he is. We’ll just have to go after him without his help.” Natasha could only hope that once they captured Loki and put a stop to this madness Clint would be freed from his control. She wasn’t used to dealing with things she had no way of knowing or fighting or even understanding, and it was wearing her already frayed nerves ragged.

“Suit up then, Stark thinks he knows where Loki’s gone and we could use your help.”

*******

The Helicarrier was so much more peaceful after the mess that had happened just an hour ago in New York. It felt like a weight had been taken off her shoulders, even though she felt even worse physically than before. She leaned back against the medical ward wall, running her fingers through Clint’s hair where he was resting his head on her knee. They were both sprawled on the uncomfortable medical cot, exhausted and covered in dirt and grime from their respective fights but too exhausted and relieved to really care. After his capture and _persuasion_ by Thor and the other Avengers, Loki had released his hold on Clint and by the time she’d made her way down to medical he was back to normal. They’d somehow won the day and stopped the invasion, but in all honesty Natasha was just glad to have her Hawk back.


	7. Wolf in Your Bed (Steve, werewolf!Bucky)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was pretty fun to write! I don't get to write werewolves often so when I got this prompt of **Imagine HYDRA turned Bucky into a werewolf and their own personal attack dog** I just had to jump at it. Hope you enjoy it!

Growing up in the 20s and 30s, Steve had heard plenty of times that it’d be in his best interest to keep the wolf from his door. He’d thought that now in this new century that wouldn’t be a problem, but, he should have learned by now that life seemed to like to jab him in the most ironic of ways.

The light filtering through the tinted glass of the windows was what normally woke him up on the days he decided to sleep in, but this morning it was fur tickling his nose that brought him to awareness. Steve made an exaggerated sneezing sound and wiped at his nose as he sat up, blinking tiredly down at the other side of the bed. Or, rather, where the other side was completely obscured by several hundred pounds of very fluffy wolf. Bucky still didn’t seem to have a lot of control over what form he took, and on their last mission he’d shifted and had yet to turn back. It wasn’t a big deal, but Steve still needed a few seconds to remember that the giant predator sleeping next to him was his friend when he woke up first thing in the morning.

It seemed like a lifetime ago that he’d first realized the strange wolf-like creature that HYDRA had sent after him was Bucky. First ripped off the muzzled mask and found himself staring into all too familiar eyes. First recognized the scars that painted the beast’s body were the same ones Bucky got in the war. He’d seen stranger things but the thought of his best friend being twisted into some sort of monster had almost been too much to swallow.

It’d been worse on the Helicarrier. Bucky had been human then, but right before his eyes he’d shifted and turned into the massive snarling beast from the causeway when the beam trapped him and he knew without a doubt that he’d been right. Some nights he remembered that, how Bucky’s fangs had felt clamped down on his throat and the claws sunken so deep into his chest he still felt them against his bones even months later.

Steve wasn’t sure how long he was lost in his own thoughts and memories, only jolting back to the present when a paw as big around as his head batted lightly at his face, bright steel-blue eyes and pointed brown ears tuned in towards him. Steve couldn’t help but smirk a bit and reach over to scratch that spot behind Bucky’s ears that he loved and soon enough he’d melted into a limp puddle of fur, tail wagging a mile a minute.

When he got like this it was hard to remember just how dangerous he was under HYDRA’s control. He’d nearly killed him but now he was more like an over-sized affectionate puppy, and even though he couldn’t quite control himself in this form he didn’t really mind.

"You ready to get up?" he asked and Bucky’s only reply was to stretch his limbs and yawn widely, sharp teeth bared for the slightest moment. It was a pretty clear no, but just to make sure he got his point across he swung one of his heavy paws into Steve’s chest and pushed him back down onto the mattress, scooting up close to him.

"Okay okay I get it, you wanna sleep in." Steve tried to sigh but he just ended up laughing, Bucky’s long fur ticklish and his warm weight comforting. Even the feeling of Bucky’s cold wet nose smushed up against his cheek was welcome. He’d likely shift back today, he tended to after a few days in either form, and he’d rather be with him when it happened as it was quite painful. Bucky felt ashamed of it sometimes, told him that he wasn’t sure if he was more human or monster some days, but Steve assured him that no matter what he was he was still going to be his friend. He was back in his life, and even though he was covered in fur sometimes he was just glad to have him back.


	8. A Lamb Among Wolves (human!Steve, Vampire!Bucky, Fairy!Nat)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, I got a prompt a while back of **Imagine an AU where Bucky is a vampire, Natasha is a fairy, and Steve is the friend who helps them research their kind in mythology** and I just couldn't resist. This ot3 is my favorite ot3 holy shit.

"People seriously believed this shit? No wonder we managed to stay hidden so long."

Steve sighed quietly, absentmindedly leafing through yet another old tome from the library as Bucky watched idly. The vampire was leaning up against his side, head on his shoulder and still as death with only his eyes really moving as he scanned a page depicting the fatal vampiric reactions to garlic. Well, his mouth was moving too when he decided to make some smartass retort. Steve angled the book a bit from where it was situated against his hip, propped up against Natasha’s legs which draped across both he and Bucky’s laps while she stretched across most of the couch. All in all, a fairly normal occurrence for the unorthodox trio.

"Speak for yourself, James; most people still think I’ll grant a wish or fit in their pocket and _won’t_ eat them.” Natasha chimed after a moment, not even glancing up from where she was perusing one of Steve’s sketchbooks. Steve’s small apartment was filled with musty old books from antique shops and checked out of the library, all of them dabbling in the mythological or supernatural in one way or another. Both Bucky and Natasha had lived much, much longer than he had but they’d never sat down to investigate human understanding of their own kinds, but after meeting Steve it became a nearly weekly event. He might have known the inhuman pair for a long time now but these laid-back gatherings to gawk and laugh at old human superstitions and myth never seemed to get repetitive.

"Yeah, they think I’ll do that." Bucky added with a soft yawn, his razor sharp fangs exposed for a brief moment before he curled up further into Steve’s side. It was almost comical, really, seeing the two lounging around and on the frail human as if they were two large cats, docile and placid despite being two wolves and one sickly lamb. Although, truth be told, Steve was just as much a member of the pack despite his fragile humanity and distinctive lack of sharp teeth.

"At least most humans don’t even notice just who they’re talking to with you, Nat," Steve started, glancing down at her, "Buck’s got his fangs but our human ‘fairies’ are so different they wouldn’t even recognize you if you showed ‘em." Natasha’s true form was something Steve couldn’t fathom into words or pencil lines, beauty and terror and deadly grace given life, wings and claws. Steve had seen her like that once and only once, after he and Buck had gotten into a bad fight and one of the aggressors had nicked Bucky with silver. There hadn’t even been a shred of the group left after Natasha had finished with them.

"Hn, guess you’re right," she hummed after a quiet moment, picking idly at a small fleck of dried blood under one of her fingernails, "those guys earlier definitely didn’t know what hit them."

"I don’t even think they realized they’d gotten hit before they dropped. You definitely weren’t playin’ around this mornin’." Bucky replied with a rumbling sort of laugh as he mirrored her own actions, scrubbing at his mouth with the back of his hand to clean away any lingering traces of blood he might have there. He hadn’t even gotten a chance to get involved with the fight before Natasha ended it, the blood instead tied to the two thinly-scabbed punctures on Steve’s neck. He didn’t often feed off of him, a sort of last resort more often than not, and with the alarm the scuffle that morning had raised he definitely couldn’t have risked going hunting. Steve had been adamant in convincing him it was alright, not wanting to sit by and watch him shift uncomfortably with hunger for the rest of the day.

"Well, I don’t think this book is gonna tell us anythin’ interesting," Steve mumbled, letting the heavy leather cover of the book close with a satisfying thump, "unless you’re lyin’ about the garlic thing to save your pride." His voice turned teasing and Bucky just rolled his eyes, letting out a long-suffering exhale.

"Oh yeah Stevie, its the biggest weakness of ‘em all. The only thing that can bring down a terrifying and powerful vampire such as myself is a fuckin’ cooking seasoning." He tried his hardest to sound convincingly annoyed but just ended up snickering at the absurdity of it. It got a broad smile out of Steve and a snort of laughter from Natasha.

"Where did you humans even think that up from? And you guys think _we’re_ the strange ones.”


	9. The Cold Passing of Time (Steve, Bucky)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone prompted me about Steve finding Bucky in cryo during the Avengers so I tweaked it a bit. This will possibly be the last chapter as I left the imagine group due to the head mod so unless I get AU prompts on my imagine blog I'll just mark this as complete!

The Helicarrier had been a marvel in and of itself, but the Triskelion was in a whole other league. It made Fort Leigh look like a run down campsite, with all sorts of high-tech computers and gadgets and all the top embellishments the 21st century had to offer. After everything that had happened in New York he didn’t think he could possibly find anything else that could surprise him.

He was dead wrong.

He'd almost dismissed the silvery capsule as just another relic, another piece of dusty tech hidden away with the rest of the plundered HYDRA weapons, but something drew him to look at it more closely. It hummed softly as the cooling mechanism ticked along, the surface frozen cold and coated in a thick layer of icy frost that he had to work to scrape off. He could just barely make out a glass panel, perhaps a window? The whole device reminded him eerily of Project Rebirth, and after hearing of the many attempts to replicate the serum, he hoped this wasn't what he thought it was.

It wasn't, but it was so much worse. The film of ice crystals sloughed off of the slick window, revealing a sleeping form. Recognition shot through Steve like a bolt of lightning, nausea coiling in his belly and the air knocked clean from his lungs. _Bucky_. The name died on his lips, his voice suddenly weak and failing as trembling fingers frantically pressed at the control panel along the side of the cryotube.

Someone was going to answer to this, he'd see to it, but right now all his thoughts were focused on getting him out of there. _Now_. The heavy door hissed loudly with a glut of cold fog as the seal disengaged, a thick, congealed fluid leaking from the bottom, sucking the warmth out of Steve's feet as it poured over his boots. He barely registered it, gaze unwavering from the insulated door, which suddenly popped free and swung wide with a splash of cyrogenic fluid.

Bucky collapsed limply, the air-mask around his face coming lose as Steve caught him, both of them falling to the ground in the melting puddle of gel. He was dead weight, frigid and wet from the strange liquid that had filled the chamber. Some distant part of him realized this had to be how he had felt at the bottom of the ravine, after he'd failed to catch him, cold and soaked through.

"... Buck? Can you- can you hear me?" Steve's voice was barely there, the trembling that had taken hold over his hands now spreading through his body as confusion and shock gave way to horror and joy at the same time. Bucky was here, he was alive, but how? What was the metal device fixed to his shoulder? Why was his hair so long, and how did he get here?

A slow shudder ran through Bucky's body before he coughed weakly, eyes fluttering open slightly before closing again. He only started shivering then, leaning all of his weight against Steve as if he could absorb his warmth. He was silent other than his shaky breathing and the soft whirring of his arm as it adjusted to the abrupt temperature change.

Steve didn't try to prompt any other answers out of him, shock having chased all the words right out of him. His eyes were burning with the threat of tears but he didn't let them fall, focusing instead on right now. Bucky was right here, that was what mattered. He ran his fingers through Buck's hair, still slick from the cryofluid, and just spoke to him. He was scared if he so much as blinked he'd vanished. He didn't dare take the risk, but even now, something like rage budded in his chest. Whoever did this was going to have a long conversation they weren't going to enjoy.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to submit prompts to [my tumblr](http://snakefeathers.tumblr.com/ask) or [my twitter](https://twitter.com/GenoBreakerHen)if you have an AU prompt you'd like to see written! Or you could leave some in the comments, but to ensure it gets done submit it to my blog!


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